


Prude

by pierceplotholes



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Community: skyrimkinkmeme, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Innocence, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-15 18:21:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7233559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pierceplotholes/pseuds/pierceplotholes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erandur's affectionate feelings for the Dragonborn make him nervous enough, the Bosmer's view on nudity and promiscuity is just icing on the cake.</p><p>Written for SKM</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm the one writing this on SKM, because I am the ultimate Erandur trash.

It was days like these when it was really obvious. When they would lay out in the grass, soaking in the warmth of Sun’s Height. When they prepared a midday meal in perfect harmony, not once speaking a word. When Erandur found himself studying the lines and the scars on his companion’s face.   
It was days like these when it was obvious his affections had grown beyond platonic. For there was nothing that the aged priest of Mara wanted more during these moments than to pull Thurilas into his arms and let the day slip away. 

Though of course, the Bosmer’s near naked state causing an unbidden heat below Erandur’s belt may have clued him in as well. Little could compare to a sudden punch of arousal to tell someone they may have an interest in their fellow mer. 

“My dear friend, while I understand there is a cultural difference at play, I would prefer if you wore something a bit more… substantial.”

“It’s warm.” Thurilas replied simply, tucking his arms behind his head. 

Erandur couldn't argue with that, especially considering he himself was beginning to get uncomfortably hot in his thick orange robes. So he shut back up. 

“Hey ‘Rand?”

“Hmm?”

“Do Dunmer tan?”

He looked over at Thurilas, bewildered, who seemed to be asking earnestly. 

“How old are you, to have never asked?”

“I've never known any Dunmer well enough to ask, no need to bring age into it.” He paused. “What about freckles?”  
Erandur laughed. 

“Yes, we tan and can have freckles- Hey!”

Thurilas rolled over onto the priest and started pulling at his collar. Erandur reflexively tried to push him off, a flush rushing up his cheeks, but Thurilas was much stronger and bent on pulling back the yellow and orange fabric. 

“Stop squirming and let me see your tan line!”

He stopped fighting the shameless Bosmer, although his thin fingers stayed latched to the other’s shoulders, and let him sate his curiosity. 

“You look like a startled deer,” Thurilas said, chuckling, “And with a contrast like that, an incredibly _prude_ deer who needs more sun.”

Erandur was too embarrassed to meet the black gaze of his assailant. He glanced a look down his body, long and thin, trapped between the knees of short and sinewy Thurilas. When he looked back up, the Bosmer sat up on his haunches, just barely above touching the mer below him. 

“I’m thinking of buying you some mage robes.” Thurilas started and, knowing it would happen, put a hand over Erandur’s mouth to halt his protests. 

“Would you prefer Destruction or Restoration?” The priest huffed out a sigh through his nose and Thurilas removed his hand. 

“Restoration.”   
The Bosmer nodded and stood, going to collect his clothing. 

“We should reach Riften by nightfall if we stay out of trouble.”

“As if. Everything that moves wants to test its weight against the Dragonborn. 

Thurilas groaned as he hoisted his bag over his shoulders.

“Thanks for reminding me, ‘Rand. I really should have stayed in High Rock.”

“Maybe. But I trust the Divines know what they're doing.”

He groaned again and muttered a variety of blasphemies under his breath. Erandur pulled together the last of his things and joined his companion’s side. 

“I’m glad you came back to Skyrim, old friend.”  
Thurilas gave the Dunmer a small smile. 

“Ah, I suppose it hasn't been all bad.”

 

He didn't want to mention it, but Erandur was incredibly excited. The temple of Mara was in Riften, the temple he so longed to visit. With every step he thanked Mara for giving him the chance to at least glance it, and prayed for the opportunity to go inside. Thurilas was a wanderer, freelance laborer or adventurer or whatever he needed to be to get him a room and a hot meal. Erandur didn't expect to stay long. 

He was led through the dark streets, the setting sun giving the place a fuzzy orange glow, and soaked in the sights. The town had a nasty reputation, and the untouched canals had a stagnant smell, but the rough stonework and stacked buildings gave it a strangely comforting look. 

“I have a couple stops to make before we settle down for the night. Hopefully Elgrim’s is still open.”  
They continued along the curved path to a marketplace of sorts. Erandur didn't notice to whom his friend was talking to, as his eyes had been drawn to a large gold banner. 

There it was. Those sloping stairs and warm chestnut doors led to the temple of his Lady. He felt a tingle of pious exhilaration race up his spine. A hand on his arm brought him back to reality, and before he knew it, Thurilas was leading him up those stone steps with a soft smile. 

The inside was dimly lit, fires flickering delightfully off the metal statue in the center, and it wasn't just the large braziers that's made him feel so warm. Erandur’s throat tightened. The intimacy of the hand on his arm and the presence of his most beloved Divine made him feel light as air. Thurilas’s touch slipped from him and Erandur was free to roam. He ran his hands on the rich wooden pews and as he walked towards the altar, he felt no need to resist the broad smile that spread across his features. He turned to Thurilas, affection swelling in his chest. 

“Thank you, my friend, I… I cannot express the joy I am experiencing right now.”

Before he could get a response from his Bosmer friend, his attention was stolen. 

“Greetings! Welcome to the temple of Mara!”

The Dunmer turned to see a Redguard priest, whom he immediately introduced himself to. So lost he got in conversation with Maramal, that he didn't notice his companion excuse himself to finish his errands. 

 

Erandur was kneeling in front of the altar, deep in meditation, when Thurilas came back. He had the trained gait of an assassin, and the priest was inky alerted to his presence when he felt fingers touching his hair. As he looked up at the Bosmer, he couldn't hide the affection in his eyes. The fingers left his hair and offered a hand up. Erandur took it, and Thurilas helped him stand. 

“I’m ready for some dinner and sleep. Do you want to come, or stay here longer?”

Erandur realized he was still holding his friend’s hand and let go. 

“I’ll gladly come with. I can't think of a better way to end the day.”

The streets had gone empty, and the sun had set. Thurilas led him to an inn at the center of town, and sat him down at an empty table. The place wasn't large, but seemed friendly enough. There were a few locals sitting in chairs, and what he assumed to be a sellsword by one of the doors. 

Thurilas spike to the Argonian woman behind the bar and came back with a plate.

“Hope you like fish, Era.” he said with a smile, handing him a fork and placing the plate between the two of them. Erandur chuckled. 

“I lived most of my life in a port town, my friend, I would have starved if I didn't.”

That got a small grin from the Bosmer before he stuffed his mouth with their meal. Erandur hadn't stopped smiling for hours, and now he felt like he might get his face stuck as such. It made it difficult to eat, sure, but the embarrassingly domestic thoughts bouncing around his head were much too infectious to cast away. 

He imagined dinner small talk every night, not renting separate rooms but sharing a bed, pressing a goodnight kiss to Thurilas’s forehead, and feeling those deceptively strong arms around him in the morning. 

“‘Rand?”  
He snapped back to reality, and realized he’d been staring at Thurilas the whole time.

“Apologies, I got lost in thought.” The Bosmer’s lip quirked up as Erandur busied himself with food. 

“Awfully good ones, too, from the look on your face. Did you fall for Maramal in there? You haven't stopped grinning since I took you to the temple.” Erandur’s eyebrows raised.  
“What are Mara’s views on one-night-stands, anyways?”

The priest nearly choked on his fish. Carefully he swallowed before answering his friend, knowing full well he was merely making jest. 

“Maramal is married, first of all” -Thurilas raided a brow suggestively- “And second, Mara’s teachings generally encourage intimacy in a relationship sense, but it is recognized to be used more recreationally for some and is then only asked to be respectful and consensual.”

The Bosmer chewed his fish thoughtfully, seeming to be considering his words. 

“So then you're not going to be sneaking into the temple in the middle of the night?”

Thurilas laughed good-naturedly as Erandur’s head fell into his hands. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh as well or smack his friend over the head for being so damned ridiculous. 

“You know I mean only to tease, ‘Rand.” he said as his laughter died down. Erandur looked up from his hands with a teasing smile. 

“I’d thought you were too old to be making such base jokes, Thurilas.” The Bosmer leaned closer with a conspiratorial look. 

“And I think you're too old to be so shy about life’s greater pleasures.”

“I’m not _shy_ -” he was interrupted by Talen-Jei placing a second plate of fish in front of them. Thurilas thanked him before turning back. Erandur dropped his voice lower. 

“I _had_ sworn off all of the good things in life before you showed back up. Thurilas grinned. 

“Now look at you, sipping Black-Briar Mead in a warm inn and a plate of delicious salted fish in front of you.”

“And I got to visit the temple of Mara…” he briefly fought the Bosmer for the largest fish and popped it into his mouth. 

“Exactly. I think you're well on your way to being as spoiled as the rest of us.” They both chuckled at the absurdity of either of them being called _spoiled_. They finished eating in comfortable silence. Thurilas yawned and stretched. 

“I think I need to go hunting tomorrow. It's getting harder and harder to sleep.”

Erandur nodded, knowing full well what his companion meant. They walked up the stairs to their rooms, Thurilas pointing them out, and lingered just a little too long in their good-nights. 

 

Erandur sighed and sat on the edge of the bed to pull of his boots, his robes following just after. The bed felt comfortable, and it had been a tiring day of walking. That, and the emotional ride Thurilas had given him. He shook his head with a smile, and pulled a soft fur over himself as he settled into bed. He gave Mara a quick prayer, one of thanks and another to help Thurilas sleep, and drifted off. 

He should have prayed for his own sleep as well. 

 

_In his dreams, the Bosmer’s hand was on his arm again, but with words of pleasure… pleasure… pleasure…  
Where at the top of the stairs they had parted, now he was led to the temple of Thurilas’s own making. Where he worshiped the flesh and the soft sighs of a lover. Erandur found himself as he had in the grass, trapped beneath the other mer, at the mercy of his wandering hands, and had promises of desire and the acts to come whispered into his ear. He burned hot, skin aflame where skilled hands trailed and made him writhe from a touch that felt like lightning under his skin. _

The ache for release dragged him from the dream.  
Barely awake, he slipped his hands into his smalls, finding himself painfully hard. Desperate and ashamed, he made short work of the problem and came with a penitent groan. 

This was not a facet to their relationship that he needed.


	2. Chapter 2

On shaky legs he stood to clean himself up, washing away the evidence and stuffing soiled cloth into the bottom of his traveling pack. Erandur dressed and went to find out the time, and noticed Thurilas’s door was open. A peek into the room revealed it to be empty, and so the priest made his way downstairs. 

He found Thurilas at a table, chewing some bread.

“What time is it?” Erandur asked, sitting next to the Bosmer. 

“Just after dawn.” Thurilas passed a loaf of bread to him. 

“Did you get any sleep? I prayed you would.”   
The Bosmer’s eyebrows raised. 

“An hour or two, yes. Give your goddess my thanks.”

Erandur smiled and nodded as he watched Thurilas open an over-folded piece of he had laying on the table. 

“I grabbed an unclaimed bounty from Keerava last night.” he slid it over to Erandur. 

“A couple of bandits are scaring off the merchants. They stole from one too many East Empire Company caravans, and people started dying recently.”

The priest folded the paper back up and handed it back. He chewed his bread and watched Thurilas tuck it into one of the pockets on his belt. With difficulty, he pulled his eyes from the tight leather the Bosmer wore and licked his lips nervously. 

“Want to head out now or do you need more sleep?”

Erandur shook his head, popping the last hunk of crust into his mouth. 

“I couldn't fall back asleep now. I'm ready.”

They gathered their things and head out, enjoying the damp feeling of the early morning air. Thurilas seemed twitchy, and Erandur figured it must be the beast blood. No wonder he was so desperate to leave. 

 

It wasn't a long walk to get to the old ruin the bandits were camping in. 

It was a larger encampment than they expected, but contrary to Erandur’s nerves, Thurilas seemed to be pretty excited. The Bosmer dropped his things and dug through his bag, pulling out the shirt he slept in. To the priest’s surprise, he ripped off the sleeve and shoved it into Erandur’s hands. 

“Put that around your neck.”

“Why?”

“Because you smell like… more you today. I can't really explain it. But you need to smell like me.”

Eyebrows raised, he pulled his hood down and tied the ripped cloth loosely around his throat. He tried to ignore his mind’s reasonings for the change in scent; it was much too shameful to think about with Thurilas standing in front of him as he was. 

Just as the word “shameful” came to his mind, his companion started pulling off his tight black assassin’s leathers. Shockingly, Erandur hesitated before turning away. 

“Y’know, ‘Rand, if you'd stop looking away, you might find that you _like_ what you see.”

His posture stiffened, and he crossed his arms tight, and played with the straps of his pack. Now was not the time to be pondering Thurilas’s half-naked form. They had a job to do, after all. 

“Is now really the time to hit on me?” Erandur joked, his heart going a million miles an hour at how daring it was of him. Thurilas laughed. 

“Sorry, ‘Rand. I'm sure you figured by now that the beast blood heightens my libido the longer I go without a hunt. You can turn around now.”

Oh, he was aware. Up until recently, taking other inn patrons to bed was one of the first things Thurilas did to take the edge off of his lycanthropy.   
Erandur turned around, flicking his eyes over the cheap fur armor the Bosmer had changed into. They grabbed their weapons, Erandur’s trusty ebony mace and Thurilas’s daggers, and dropped anything they didn't need in combat. 

“They should be up by how. If not, well… this will wake ‘em up.”

With the confidence of someone well trained in combat, Thurilas strode through the crumbling gate of the ruins. 

The lookout above them jumped to attention. 

“ _Hey!_ Get th’ fuck out, elf, or you're gunna regret it!”

Thurilas just drew his daggers and stood in the middle of the camp. The watch man clambered down from the post and yelled for the others. An angry looking Imperial came at Thurilas with a battered Elven sword, but movement from the roof of the old stone ruin is what caught Erandur’s eye. A lone archer aimed for Thurilas. 

Erandur gathered flames in his fist and launched a fireball at the unsuspecting bowman. He disappeared behind the stone with a howl, and brought Erandur to the attention of the bandits. 

“There's another!” One of the outlaws yelled, and came at him with a jagged axe. The priest dodged the first swing easily, and raised his mace. Another attack had him jumping back, stumbling a little. He caught his balance and lashed out at the bandit, ripping open an unprotected arm. The bandit swore and grabbed the front of Erandur’s robes. Erandur tried to jerk away, and when that failed, he raised his free hand once more. The hold on his clothes released when a gout of fire incinerated the bandit’s face. With that one down, Erandur could check Thurilas’s status, a healing spell glowing in his palm. 

The Bosmer was fighting two at once, his blades countering any attacks made with the grace of a master. One of his daggers sunk onto the belly of a Nord woman and, to his horror, got stuck. She jabbed at his leg weakly as she fell. 

Thurilas hissed as the the steel to tore open the muscle of his thigh. The priest started forward to throw a healing spell, but the Bosmer backed up and dropped his other dagger. The two remaining bandits looked to follow, but stopped dead when Thurilas threw back his head and howled. 

In a matter of moments, the Bosmer doubled in size, growing into his full bestial form.


	3. Chapter 3

One of the outlaws tried to run, but the werewolf, Thurilas, surged forward with a growl and tore him open with his claws. The unfortunate man’s screams were cut off by powerful jaws biting into his throat and shaking him like a ragdoll. 

The other one gripped his greatsword, knuckles white, to face the beast. Thurilas snarled and circled the man. The sword swung, aiming for the werewolf’s face, but Thurilas was faster. The steel blade missed, and the wolf lunged, tackling the bandit and tearing into him with razor teeth. Erandur still stood in place, away from the beast’s attention, and turned his gaze away. Just hearing the sound of snapping bones and tearing entrails was well enough to make him sick. 

The archer stood back up. 

Afraid to call out to Thurilas, Erandur dropped his mace and readied his hands for another fireball. But he wasn't fast enough, and an arrow sunk into the werewolf’s back, making him yelp. The archer readied another arrow and Thurilas started running. He lept, clawed up the ruin, and made quick work of the attacker by flinging him off the roof. He landed on the ground in a broken heap. 

Thurilas clambered down the old fort to tear open his last victim’s chest and Erandur frowned. The proximity gave him a good look at the wounds he’d suffered. Thurilas ate his fill and sniffed around. 

His head snapped to face Erandur, and the priest felt his blood go cold. The beast limped over to him, sniffing all the while. 

_‘Don't run, don't panic, he’ll recognize you, you'll be fine!’_ Erandur thought to himself, panicking more and more as the werewolf got closer. Magicka crackled in his fingers, preparing to release in vain hopes of fighting back. They were practically nose-to-nose, and hot breath billowed over his visage. 

Thurilas licked him, right across the face, and then bounded off into the woods. Erandur was stunned. 

Watching the ugly thing run off brought him back and he quickly collected their dropped weapons (including the dagger caught in the Nord woman), and began to follow at a distance. He knew that without anything substantial to eat, Thurilas would turn back within a few minutes and likely wouldn’t be able to get far. With short bursts of Detect Life and the blood trail left behind, Erandur followed his friend. 

He heard a loud splash, and turned to see a pond through the trees. Staying by the treeline, he watched Thurilas flail about in the water, and then shrink back to his usual self. The Bosmer limped to the shore, looking around wearily. 

“‘Rand..?” he croaked, and the priest ran to him, just in time to catch his fall. Thurilas leaned heavily on the Dunmer, and they started walking to where they had left their packs. Erandur laid him down in the grass, too concerned to care that he was stark naked, and built up a healing spell in his hands. Fortunately, the arrow that had pierced his shoulder was forced out during the transformation, but the hole, along with the gash in the Bosmer’s thigh, was still there. 

Erandur poured his magicka into the leg wound, staunching the bleeding and pulling the flesh and torn muscle back together. His skills could only do so much, however, and he couldn't quite manage to close it all the way. After tying the thigh up with a bandage, he started on the shoulder. Fortunately, the arrow hadn't gone deep. It would hurt for a while, but it healed quickly. 

Thurilas had passed out. Sighing, Erandur unwound the cloak from around his neck and fanned it over the unconscious Bosmer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actively avoid multi-chapter fics because they sound so short and awkward. I apologize *awkward laughter*


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the readers:  
> Despite the fact that most of my works on here are M or E and that I have read enough erotica to kill a conservative, I am totally asexual and have only the vaguest concept of arousal so i apologize if it's a disappointing climax to the story OTL  
> er  
> no pun intended

Thurilas woke up a while later with a pained groan, and Erandur dropped his book to help him sit up. 

“How are you feeling, my friend?” Thurilas rolled his shoulder, pulled the cloak off of his torso, and winced. 

“Believe me when I say I've suffered worse. But your healing has helped considerably.”

Thurilas stretched slowly, and Erandur’s blood ran hot as his worry slipped and gave was to delayed arousal. His cloak was pooled over Thurilas’s lap. And he was suddenly all too aware that it was the only thing the Bosmer wore. 

He turned away, afraid to be caught staring. From the corner of his sight he saw Thurilas’s arms drop and his head tip back. 

“Another sunny day. Gods, I love the Rift. Warmest place in Skyrim, besides maybe Falkreath.” He turned to Erandur, who reluctantly met his gaze. 

“You should get naked.”  
The words shot straight to his groin. 

“Excuse me?” 

Thurilas laughed.  
“That tanline of yours isn't going to go away on its own. C’mon, sunbathe with me.”  
He declined with a little too much force and Thurilas pursed his lips. 

“You can even keep your smalls on?”

Erandur chuckled at this, despite his embarrassment and delicate state of calm. 

“Do I have to strip you, Erandur?” 

“Don't you dare!” 

Thurilas grinned wickedly, pulling the cloak off and carefully putting his weight on his good leg. To Erandur’s horror, he felt himself getting hard. Fast. He held up his hands, ready to push away the Bosmer. 

Thurilas threw himself forward, pushing the Dunmer over. They wrestled, trying to get control of the others’ hands, and Erandur gasped aloud when he was straddled. He lost, hands being pinned on either side of his head. The Bosmer looked down at him with an expression the priest had never seen directed at him. There was no chance that he couldn't feel Erandur’s erection.

“Is this” -Thurilas wiggled teasingly on his lap- “why you refused? Dear Erandur, you could have just asked.”

“Thurilas, I- I’m not one for casual sex. You know that.”

“Who said it would be casual?”

“You're always having one night- oh.” 

Thurilas released a hand, which made no move to push the Bosmer off, and trailed it down Erandur’s front. 

“Of course I know, ‘Rand.” he said quietly, “That's why I never made a pass at you. You don't deserve to be fooled with.” A firm tug pulled Erandur’s belt from beneath him. 

Erandur stared at him, wide-eyed, his breath coming in pants. The Bosmer pushed open his robes, just enough to reveal a line of smooth gray skin, and looked up at him. 

“Well, are you going to say some-”

“I love you.”

All movement stopped, and Erandur started to panic, but then Thurilas smiled. Broad and honest, he dipped to pass his lips to the priest’s. He settled lower over Erandur, teaching him new ways to kiss languidly, and started to rock their hips together. 

“Only you would blurt out the ‘love you’ line before we even kissed.”

The Dunmer breathed out his first real moan, and felt Thurilas’s hot tongue slip into his mouth. The kisses were skilled, and he felt his inhibitions fade away. His free hand curled into the Bosmer’s still-damp hair, stroking softly. Fingers danced on his skin, slipping under his robes and making his heart race. Gods, his touch felt so right. Lips moved to his neck, and fingers to his ear, and suddenly Erandur was reminded of the demands of his prick. Then those lips sucked on his ear, making his hips jerk and a cry escape his lips. He didn't even hear Thurilas laugh.

“T-Thur- _Divines_!” Erandur felt a hiss on his neck and then Thurilas’s body was gone. He opened his eyes and saw the Bosmer rifling through his bag. He cursed and crawled back over to him. 

“I can't find my lube,” he explained, “So I'll just get you off another way.”

Erandur sat up on his elbows, watching the Bosmer untie his smalls. He felt his skin tingle self-consciously. How long had it been since someone had seen him this unclothed? Despite his (somewhat unreasonable) nerves about his appearance, Thurilas took no small pleasure in holding down the Dunmer’s hips and slipping his mouth around his length. Hot and wet, Erandur felt lightheaded with pleasure. 

Erandur laid back down. The priest couldn't tell if those black eyes were looking at him or his dripping cock.  
Ruddy lips trailed his body, kissing to his neck. Erandur’s hands found their way to Thurilas’s back, growing bold in the attentions of his lover. Fingers touched his length, barely making contact, and he gasped. The Bosmer moved to take both of them in hand. Thurilas’s free hand tangled in graying hair, all but gripping, and then shifted his hips. A startled noise escaped the priest’s mouth and quickly devolved into the Bosmer’s name. The ex-assassin grinned, Erandur could feel it on the skin of his neck, and repeated the action. 

The wet from Thurilas’s previous mouthing, the stray grip, and the friction of sensitive flesh…  
Gray fingers smoothed down to Thurilas’s ass, hesitantly experiencing the muscle and then using his hold to push their hips together harder. 

Thurilas danced his fingers on the Dunmer’s ear, reveling in every gasp and moan he coaxed out. He ran his tongue along the cartilage, rocking their hips all the while. The look of complete ecstasy on the priest’s face was a sight to behold. 

Erandur was near incoherent, his mind focused only on thoughts of the pleasures Thurilas was teaching him. He reached between them, batting Thurilas’s hand away and taking hold of his lover’s cock. Thurilas groaned into Erandur’s neck as he was stroked off with nimble fingers.

“Do you want me to come on you, ‘Rand?” he gasped out, running a hand over the priest’s navel.  
“All over that pretty gray skin of yours?”

“Yes” Erandur answered, grip tightening around the Bosmer. Thurilas choked down his voice and turned to watch Erandur’s face. Oh, the priest didn't need much to push him over the edge. He was twitching and moaning there on his back eyes half lidded and Thurilas knew it would only take a last few jerks. 

The Bosmer scraped his teeth along the point of Erandur’s ear and reclaimed his prick. Erandur’s hips bucked, fingernails dug into ruddy skin, and he cried out. The grip on his own dick tightened, and Thurilas poured his need into getting his priest off. Erandur gasped and flung his arms around Thurilas’s neck. The Bosmer throbbed near painfully as he watched Erandur climax. Dusky hips bucked and that lovely deep voice spilled pieces of “Thurilas” like prayers.

He groaned as the Dunmer’s release hit his own skin and with a rough jerk, painted the gray beneath him in return.  
Thurilas settled carefully between Erandur’s legs, whose arms were held limply around his neck.


	5. Chapter 5

Erandur bathed in the bliss, tingling pleasantly and breathing in the Bosmer on top of him. Warm breath ghosted his neck, and he took to stroking the tacky skin beneath his fingers. He would have been content to lay there under Thurilas’s comforting weight all day, but he became aware of something poking his back. He grunted in discontent and tried to wiggle away.

Thurilas sat up. 

“Sorry, ‘Rand, am I crushing you?”  
Erandur shook his head. 

“I think there's a twig sticking my back.”

The Bosmer laughed and shifted away from his priest. Erandur sat up, shrugging off the robe sleeves that had been pooled at his elbows, and reaching for the twig. He tossed it away and turned to the other mer with an uncontrollable smile on his face. 

Thurilas pressed a kiss to his cheekbone and returned the smile. 

“Now will you sunbathe with me?”

Erandur rolled his eyes and laid back down.  
“Fine, fine, _you win_.”

Thurilas pulled a rag from his pack to clean themselves up. Once finished, he relaxed down next to the priest. 

“We’ll need to loot those bandits and bring back some proof for the bounty.”

Erandur stretched with a lazy groan and looked over at the Bosmer. 

“Given that there is anything left of them.”

Chuckling, Thurilas dragged his eyes over his new lover. 

“We’ll find something. Later. For now, we’re taking advantage of the sunlight while I still have you naked.”

Erandur huffed, embarrassed, and elbowed the other playfully. 

“What is it with you and my tan line? Is it that unseemly?”

Thurilas returned the jab and laughed. 

“I find it very like you, ‘Rand. Though it is… a tad eye-catching.”

“Be quiet, you!” But despite his indignation, he was still grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I drew some art for it, it's on my tumblr 
> 
> https :// 66.media . tumblr . com / 09491539e206e786c333a037374cc381/tumblr_o9cu8iM6OU1ro8tueo1_540 .png


End file.
